


Lazy Sunday

by okbutjusthisonce



Series: RFU [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A little bit of Parent Lock, Alpha Sherlock, Boddingtons, Football, Jealous Love Sick Alpha, M/M, Mpreg, Omega John, Omega Verse, On the Cracky Side of Things, On the Fluffy Side of Things, Parentlock, british bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:32:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okbutjusthisonce/pseuds/okbutjusthisonce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Lestrade smiled and passed him a slice of pizza.</i><br/>“I’m telling you mate,” he said, “your omega side’s out of control and pushing that poor bloke to the edge." </p><p>A story in the same vein as "Cock and Bull".<br/>John has his friends over for some in-house guy time.<br/>Featuring a dash of parentLock, and a jealous alpha Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazy Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> So, here is the beginning of showing just a little bit of their lives outside of shagging each other.  
> Tell me if you like it.  
> Tell me if you don't.  
> All feedback is welcome.

Lestrade watched the tiny girl explore the bookcase - as best someone of her small stature could.

"It's so quiet," He said "Where are they all?"

"Oh, the older ones are off to the museums with Svetlana and Rosalie. The little ones are upstairs napping -Yu Jie's got watch."

"That’s right, you've got three nannies now, haven't you?"

"And you of course."

"Very funny. What about this little cutie?" Lestrade asked.

"We can't seem to keep her off of this floor like the rest of the kids... Sherlock still has to lock his lab. She's an especially clever little thing." John smiled at his daughter.

“Mandeeee...Go get Uncle Greg a Boddington’s.” he coaxed. The baby girl looked back with wide, intelligent eyes, mouth moving thoughtfully around her thumb.

“John!” exclaimed Lestrade with a mix of horror and delight.

“What? She understands. Don’t you sweetie?” The little girl toddled away.

“Is she even talking yet?”

“See how easy? You’ll have a great time watching them.”

“Ha,” Lestrade snorted, “What would you know, you can barely keep after ‘em yourself.”

“Hmmm. There’s a lot of them. Not to mention, fighting crime's a full time job."

"What are you, a superhero now?"

"Right, I'm bloody Sofa Man. This has been the longest three weeks of my life." John complained. He shifted heavily with these words, repositioning the pillows supporting his back.

"But you're in the clear now, right?" Asked Lestrade.

"Yeah... Officially off bed rest thank god! Now if I can just get Sherlock to relax a little..."

"He didn't want to let me in." Lestrade said in a low voice.

"Sorry. He's officially in Jealous-Mad-Alpha-Mode now. Pretty solidly. Got it really bad this time. It's the intensity of the whole situation." John rubbed his enormous stomach thoughtfully.

Lestrade feigned indifference despite feeling a twinge of discomfort. John looked ready to pop, but he still had some time to go before his due date. His habitual belly rubbing never failed to put Lestrade slightly on edge. It pushed his thoughts to places he didn't want them to go.

Lestrade cleared his throat.

"By the way, thanks mate," he said opening up his valise. Lestrade pulled out John's wooly jumper and handed it across to his friend. John grinned.

"Hope it brought you luck."

"Oh it worked like a charm. I couldn't believe how much Naomi wanted to rub her face in that thing."

John brought the jumper to his nose and inhaled.

"Wow, it’s...not me anymore. Well, maybe a tiny bit. Wow, that's strong!"

"She, um, says hi by the way."

"Want me to give it a top up? Not that it's likely to fit..."

"John!" Boomed Sherlock's low voice. He appeared in the doorway, nose twitching,

looking upset.

"Yeah?"

"What. Is. That. Smell!" Sherlock's eyes darted suspiciously over to Lestrade for a moment. Lestrade tried his best to smile without making too much eye contact. Sherlock scowled.

"It's just my jumper that-"

"Get that godawful thing OUT OF HERE!" He roared.

"Okay! Okay! God Sherlock, we'll just put it in the wash and-"

"Give it to me. Give it to me now." Demanded Sherlock suddenly reaching out, his long fingers twitching impatiently.

"Why?"

"I'm going to take care of it."

"Uh, okay."

Sherlock snatched the jumper from John.

"Do be sure to wash your hands and face. Preferably with something antibacterial." He said and stomped out of the room. John and Lestrade looked at each other.

“Wow,” said Lestrade.

“Yup. And that’s just a jumper. You should see what other, real live alphas are doing to him. Mycroft had to intervene twice last week.”

“So you’re both housebound!” teased Lestrade.

“Not me! I'm outta here - as soon as you give him a new case to get him out of the flat -”

“Oh no... not while he’s like that, mate... I can’t afford to have Anderson murdered right now. Too much paperwork.”

“That reminds me...” John clumsily reached around to the side table, procuring a small pile of folders and handed them to Lestrade.

“I made my notes on the sticky bits, the what-do-you-call-them, post-its.”

“Anything of interest?”

“I don’t think anything too remarkable... except on the school swim trophy one. You missed something vital.”

“Which was?”

“Your thief is left handed.”

Lestrade looked at John, gobsmacked.

“How is it you get better at this while he gets worse when you’re knocked up...”

John shrugged.

“I’m sitting home bored all day. His brain’s pickled in hormones. I’m sure he’d tell me I did a crap job six months ago...”

Lestrade’s phone buzzed. He looked at it, puzzled.

“Mark’s here,” he said looking up at John. “He says he needs some help getting in.”

 

+++

 

“- but you still live at home, so _that’s_ a lie. You’ve got type two diabetes that you take insulin injections for. Losing weight would help. Ease up on the Full English Breakfasts. You live an active life online, most likely under a pseudonym and sometimes in ladies' heels. Your favorite pub is The Cock and Bull, however you also go to another one, a pub that caters to a large number of single betas. You don’t share any of this information with your closest friends,” Sherlock inhaled deeply, "who are John and Lestrade."

“Uh, yeah... hiya Sherlock, Mark... I guess you don’t remember me...”

“The majority of John’s friends are shockingly average and therefore interchangeable.”

“Oh, haha, right.” Mark twittered nervously. Sherlock peered at him with a menacing look from the cracked door. A low growl radiated from him.

“I brought pizza...?” said Mark helplessly.

"I dislike that you're close to John."

“Sherlock!” Scolded John from the top of the stairs, “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing up?!?”

“I’m fine! We got the doctor’s all clear, remember?”

“Don’t try to go down the stairs!” Sherlock cried in a panic. John crossed his arms.

“Let Mark in, Sherlock.” Sherlock stood looking up at John with a defiant look. John grabbed the bannister and raised his leg as if to take the first step down. Sherlock spun around and opened the door. Very slightly.

“Come on up, Mark!” called John. Mark slowly maneuvered the pizza box sideways. Sherlock growled quietly, looking down at Mark as he squeezed himself into the flat, side stepping under and past Sherlock’s towering, hostile figure. With an uncertain glance back, Mark went up the stairs.

“Oh thank god!” said John taking the mangled pizza box, “ _I’m starving!_ ”

 

+++

 

“Why are there so many people here, John?” demanded Sherlock. The two of them stood away from where Mark and Lestrade sat with the telly on. Lestrade held a curled up Mandy on one side, a can of ale in his other hand.

“There are two extra people, that’s not many.”

“Why are they here?”

“Mexico’s playing Brazil, it should be a good one...”

“I’m sure they have their own homes with television sets.” Said Sherlock sulkily. John exhaled, exasperated.

“Well, normally, we’d get together at the pub. But you go mental everytime I try to leave the flat! So we’re having a lazy Sunday here. In any case, they're my friends, so..."

"What they are," snorted Sherlock, "are a couple of dull, disruptive, _unwelcome_ , low brow-"

"We can hear you." Said Lestrade. The child in his arms shifted slightly, burrowing further into his side with a contented sigh.

John wrangled an uncooperative Sherlock into the hallway. Sherlock looked down in distress at his newly mussed shirt. His gaze shifted to John’s bulging middle which he reached out dreamily to touch.

"Hey, try to pay attention,” said John, grabbing Sherlock’s hands. “I love you, but you're starting to drive me mad with your alpha behavior. Maybe we've been getting carried away lately. Let’s try and calm down a little now, okay?" Said John gently.

Sherlock gave John a strange, insulted look.

"You think _I'm_ being irrational."

"You are being irrational, love."

"Hormonal." Said Sherlock flatly.

"Yeah. Sorry, love." John smoothed Sherlock's shirt lightly. Sherlock cleared his throat. Straightened up.

"I have some experiments I must work on." He announced. John sighed in relief as he watched Sherlock disappear into his lab.

 

+++

 

"Everything alright?" Asked Mark. John lumbered back to his spot on the sofa, lowered himself down slowly with a sigh.

"Yeah, think so. Things have gone a bit overboard lately; his alpha side’s too fired up.”

“What? Is it hormones then?”

“Yeah Mark, what did you think?”

Mark shrugged and examined the the slice of cold pizza he was holding.

“He wasn’t _that_ different last time I came round.” Said Mark. Lestrade choked on his beer.

"Poor bastard. The hormonal changes are really doing a number on him." John said.

"And you." added Mark.

"Me? I'm fine." John answered. He looked at his friends in surprise as they both laughed.

"What?"

"John, you're quite mad yourself when you're preggers," said Lestrade, "I don't think I've seen you this bad before, isn't that right Mark?"

"Right you are Greg..."

"Come off it you two, I might become a little excited-"

"Become a little excited?" Cried Greg, "how about become a black hole of need and attention?"

"I do not-"

"Christ, John, how many messages do you send me in the space of an hour these days?"

"I'm bored..."

"About your _feelings_!"

"He sent me about a hundred yesterday, Greg. _All_ about Sherlock." volunteered Mark. "And there was a bit too much information in them." he added, nodding.

Lestrade chuckled.

"Ok, Johnny Boy, what about all the food requests? Hey?"

"What do you expect? I'm hungry all the time." pouted John.

"What about all your flirtatious behavior? How many alphas phone numbers did you manage to collect over the past few months?"

"Last time we were in the pub, you went to sleep against Mick, remember?" Asked Mark.

"Good thing he's a beta!" teased Lestrade, "you two were snuggled up comfortably enough, all right. No wonder poor Sherlock gets jealous."

"Nothing wrong with a little human contact- "

"And that's another thing!" Said Lestrade pointing his chin towards John, "you're always touching yourself!"

"What!"

"You're doing it _right now._ "

John looked down at his hands which were roaming unconsciously over the huge surface of his belly. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but his friends were already slamming their ale together in mirth.

“Maybe I’m a _little_ different...” he grumbled. Lestrade smiled and passed him a slice of pizza.

“I’m telling you mate,” he said, “your omega side’s out of control and pushing that poor bloke to the edge. Just look how upset the Naomi Jumper got him.”

“Naomi Jumper? Like the girl from the pub?” Asked Mark.

“Yeah, Mark, that’s the only one we know.” said John, shoveling the pizza into his mouth.

“That reminds me,” said Mark, “she’s coming here tonight.” John and Lestrade looked at each other in alarm.

“What?!?” Cried John, “what are you talking about, Mark?”

“I saw her when I popped in for a pint and your Monster Munch, John. Told her I was coming t’ visit you - you being on bed rest and all. She said she wanted to come round and say hi.”

“Did she ask about me?” Asked Lestrade.

“Mark! Call her right now and tell her not to come!” Mark looked at John with a trace of panic.

“I...I don’t know her number.” he stammered.

“Greg!?!?”

Lestrade gave John a sheepish look. John’s jaw dropped slightly as he rolled his eyes in an expression of incredulous disappointment.

“This,” he said “is a fucking disaster. We can’t have a bloody alpha drop in.”

"D'ya smell that?" asked Mark. The sound of a smoke alarm and disturbed infants crying answered before anyone else could.

 

+++

“Is that my jumper?”

“Not anymore. What’s wrong? Are there more people coming over? Why are you on edge?”

“Maybe because you’ve nearly burnt the house down. That was wool, you nutter. What a stink!”

“It’s better than that other stench. Why are our children crying.”

“You woke them up when you set off the smoke alarms with your newfound pyromania.”

“I mean, why isn’t that new girl attending to them by now.”

John exhaled softly, put his hands to the small of his back and tried to stretch, with little success.

“I sent her to the shop. And as you’ve forbidden me to use the stairs, I’m here to tell you you’d better go take care of th-” John jumped back as Sherlock threw his lab coat and gloves to the ground and dashed out of the room. John looked past the hopeless mound of his stomach to the floor.

“I’m not getting those!” he announced to the empty lab.

 

+++

 

“New plan, lads.” John said as he pulled the little girl off of Lestrade. “You go to the pub and I’ll catch up with you there.”

John’s friends looked at him curiously.

“Are you sure?” Lestrade asked.

“Yeah. And try to catch Naomi, ok?”

He put the toddler down and with great effort slowly lowered himself down in front of her. He smoothed her dark curls back from her face.

“Amanda, sweetie. Daddy’s got another job for you... and you’ve got to get as many of the of the little ones as you can to copy you, alright?”

A minute later the three of them watched her toddle out of the room and crawl up the steps.

“My little bellwether.” said John affectionately. He turned to his friends.

“See you there in thirty.”

 

+++

 

Twenty minutes later, John stuck his head in the master bedroom of 221c. Sherlock lay on the imported California king sized bed, under half a dozen tranquil small children. The youngest, a set of infant twins, were sleeping, curled up against him; protected. Sherlock was snoring gently. John saw Amanda blinking at him from amongst the pile. He smiled with a finger to his lips and turned to go.

“John.” Sherlock’s low voice came softly. John turned around. Sherlock was reaching out with his free arm, wiggling his fingers, beckoning John. His eyes were serene, devoid of the animal gleam; the jealousy and lust John had started to become accustomed to. There was no angst radiating off him for the first time in weeks.

 

+++

 

John sighed happily as Sherlock’s hands gently massaged his aching lower back. A sense of calm he didn’t know he was lacking was descending upon him. Sherlock nuzzled John’s cheek softly. It occurred to John that this behavior was equally un-Sherlock-like, just as alpha, and perhaps very necessary. As little bodies crawled over and settled around him he began to sink into the bliss of a midday nap. A lazy Sunday at home, he reflected, had been quite a good plan after all...

 

**Author's Note:**

>  _Did You Know?_ Holding a baby, or even a doll lowers testosterone levels! Isn't nature clever.


End file.
